


enter that Garden of happiness

by philthestone



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen, in loving memory of Leonard Nimoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 16:30:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4270197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philthestone/pseuds/philthestone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My Bibi used to laugh at the Starfleet motto,” she says, thinking that she’s never actually told him this before and that she’s understood this particular quirk of her grandmother’s for a long, long time now, but ... "She’d say that all those new worlds and final frontiers were hardly new or final, to anyone, because one day we were all going to pass on. And then we’d have a whole new universe to explore.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	enter that Garden of happiness

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this quite some time ago, after hearing the news of Leonard Nimoy's passing. I thought I'd finally post it here - it's similar to a scene from one of my older fics, but not quite.
> 
> I guess it goes without saying - thank you, Mr. Nimoy, for everything you've given us. I hope your exploration of the Undiscovered Country is blessed.

She is the only one who sees the little gasp – the sudden tensing of his shoulders and the fleeting crease of eyebrows, knuckles whitening on the arm of the command chair, just barely. It would have set off sirens in Spock’s head immediately, would have had McCoy narrowing his eyes within seconds.

But Spock is on gamma shift, Leonard down in sickbay.

And of all of them, it is Nyota who reads it first; Nyota who is asked to relay the transmission. Nyota who feels something small and ( _irrational, it’s irrational, it was inevitable_ ) painful twist in her chest, her fingers skimming the edge of her station barrier, hesitation lasting a second too long before she forwards the message to Kirk’s queue.

Twenty minutes later and they’re still in a lazy, comfortable orbit around Cetus VI, and Nyota watches as Jim gets up and casually hands the conn over to Sulu, exits the bridge. She stares at her data station for almost a whole thirty seconds before putting down her earpiece and following him.

He is standing on the observation deck ( _typical_ ) with his arms hanging uselessly by his sides ( _less typical_ ) and she stops, at the door, clenches her fists and takes a deep breath before walking quietly to his side.

He doesn’t turn around to face her – doesn’t say anything – but his shoulders straighten, just barely.

“Hey,” she says, softly, eyes trained on the blackblack of the space in front of them, the single streak of light in the distance that must be a farfaraway nebula.

“Hey,” he says in return, and she waits, for a beat ( _two_ ) before opening her mouth to –

“I’m being silly,” he blurts out, still deliberately staring out of the viewport. “Aren’t I. Being this upset. I mean, it’s not like he’s _gone_ –” (deep breath, and he squeezes his eyes shut) “– our Spock’ll get there one day, but –”

“It’s not the same thing,” she finishes, turning her face away from the vastness of space and watching his profile, eyes tracing the tight set of his jaw. “I know. I’m sorry, Jim.”

He shrugs. “Don’t be. It was – we all knew it was bound to happen one day. I mean, the guy was old. _Really_ old. I should’ve been expecting this, you know?”

“No one _expects_ death, Kirk.”

_(And the eye-roll is implied, because she doesn’t have the heart to actually do it.)_

“I know, I just –” He sighs. “It’s going to happen to everyone one day, and I should have – I shouldn’t be this –”

She reaches out and snags his hand in hers, gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey,” she says again. “It’s okay.”

He laughs, (grins, too, hesitant and crooked) the sort that comes out half-strained and tight in the throat.

“I know.”

She nods, steps in closer, still holding his hand, and presses the side of her head against his shoulder. Stares out into the neverending space in front of them.

 _The final frontier_ , she thinks, and remembers something.

“My Bibi used to laugh at the Starfleet motto,” she says, thinking that she’s never actually told him this before and that she’s understood this particular quirk of her grandmother’s for a long, _long_ time now, but –

_(It’s never seemed quite so fitting.)_

Jim raises an eyebrow down at her, and she continues: “she’d say that all those new worlds and final frontiers were hardly new or final, to anyone, because one day we were all going to pass on. And then we’d have a whole new universe to explore.”

Jim doesn’t say anything, but the pressure on her hand increases.

And then _(there is a catch in his voice that she rarely ever hears)_ :

“A whole other final frontier,” he whispers. “You really believe that?”

Nyota watches the fuzzy light that is the faraway nebula and thinks, _yes_.

“My Bibi did.”

“That’s not an answer, Uhura.”

“Well, fine,” she says. “My Bibi’s one of the smartest people I know.”

“Hm,” says Jim, and looks back out the viewport ( _but his head is held just a tiny bit higher, arms stronger at his sides_ ). A sigh, short and light: “I’m gonna really miss that old Vulcan.”

“Yeah,” she says, thinking of Spock – her own Spock, the particular curve of his eyebrow and the slope of his shoulders when he’s particularly happy or irritated; the way she can catch the not-there smiles that he always gives her – the way he is _(was_ ) so tangentially different from his counterpart yet so fundamentally similar, too. “Yeah, me too.”

“You know,” says Jim, ( _and the pressure on her hand lightens and she feels something in her chest untwist_ ). “He’d actually smile sometimes?”

And Nyota _does_ roll her eyes this time, elbows him lightly in the side, and Jim finally smiles, eyes shining and blue and crinkling at the corners.

 _Thank you,_ Nyota tells the stars, and Jim’s eyes might be a little brighter than usual, but she’s almost certain he’s saying the same thing.


End file.
